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“I’m leaving in five.”

I tidy up, since I already showered, and I only just do that to keep my mind off what needs to be said. Trudy’s judgemental face is in my head every time I think about it. But I know that she’s right. I need to be honest with him, so that we can both move on from this. And as he pulls into the driveway, I feel my stomach do a flip. Half for excitement, and half for nerves. I make sure I don’t jump his bones the second that he walks in, even though I want to so badly. “Hey, happy belated birthday, baby.” He says, hugging me tight. He pulls back and kisses my lips. “You look beautiful.”

“Please.” I scoff. “I look pasty and dehydrated.”

“Not to me, you don’t. And it’s nothing a decent meal can’t take care of.”

“We’ll order shortly, but there’s something I need to talk to you about first.”

He looks at me squarely. “Sounds serious.”

“It might be. Sit. Do you want a tea?”

“No thanks.” He frowns, sitting on the kitchen chair. “What’s up?”

I sit across from him with a sigh. “I should have told you this a long time ago, but I was so torn, because I wasn’t sure if I was making a big deal, foolishly, or what.”

He furrows his brows, but his tone is casual. “What is it?”

I just come out with it. “I’m not...proud of this, Ethan. But I thought I better tell you now, since, well, since we said those...three words...you know, yesterday. I didn’t want to leave it any longer.”

He sits forward and takes my hand in his. “Freya, did it freak you out, me telling you that? That I love you?”

I shake my head adamantly. “No, not at all, and I'm glad that you did. But it just resonated with me, and it sort of made me realize that I need to tell you this now, since...you know...maybe things are getting more serious between us?”

He frowns again and tilts his head. “Maybe.” I sense the hesitation, but I'm not sure if it’s always been there, or if it’s because I'm freaking him out right now.

“Ethan...” I bite my lip. “It was a long time ago...like a year ago.” I pause to swallow, feeling my gut clench. “I had an affair with your brother, Caleb.”

He releases my hand instantly, letting it drop, like I’ve just told him I’m a leper. “You what?” He whispers, his face soured, like I just passed him a plate full of worms instead of the steak he’d asked for. “You…slept…with my brother?” He repeats, like he’s making sure he heard correctly. He’s blinking fast, disgust registered on his face.

“Yes. I’m so sorry, Ethan. I should have told you a long time ago, but I was so scared.”

He rises, like his chair was just set on fire. “Jesus Christ!” He rakes a hand through his hair. “What the fuck! How fucked up is that! You fuck my brother and then you fuck me!” He shudders. “God, I want to puke!”

I don’t fight the lump that’s suddenly presented itself in my throat. “I’m so sorry, Ethan.” I gasp. “I’m so sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

I try to say more, but he lifts a hand, stifling me. He glares at me, like he can telepathically tell me how much he hates me, how he’s in total shock and disbelief, how much I’ve hurt him, how much I’ve broken his heart, all in just a look. His nostrils flare, his chest heaves, as though he’s mustering up the courage to shout at me, but he doesn’t. Instead, all he does is clench his teeth together and walk out the door, without a word.

As I stand there, staring at the towel Ethan used for his nose, all the memories come flooding back, from the last time I saw him. I didn’t try to contact him. He never spoke to me again. It’s funny how Caleb never reached out to me, either, but then he probably had his fill of me, and since he’s getting married, I’ll assume he’s found someone better. Much better. I spent a month in bed, depressed, defeated, alienated, feeling like I’d lost the love of my life for something so stupid. A stupid lie. A stupid mistake. But then, after some time, I convince myself that at least I loved. How many people get to say that they got to do that? I had true love. No matter how brief.

After I got to that place, I reconciled myself by saying that maybe he’d come back to me, but then after a few months of nothing, I started losing hope. The courage to reach out to him was never there. And then I got a promotion at work, my business starting really taking off, and I shoved Ethan in the back of my memory, only to show up as a reminder that I would never meet anyone like him again. Trudy tried convincing me to date again, but I’ve never been able to bring myself to do it. I’ll deny it until my death if asked, but part of me is still in love with him. It’s mostly in love with the memories of the time we shared together, but it’s still a love of them.

I celebrated another birthday just a couple of months ago. Or, at least, Trudy did. Birthdays will always be a sore spot going forward. She tried to convince me to go out, but I couldn’t. Instead, we got drunk and watched porn at my house, with the girls. No actual going out in public. Just us girls. I joked and said that I might as well join a convent or turn to women, because that’s as close as I’ll ever get to being in a relationship again, and my friends laugh at me. They say that it’ll pass. That I’ll meet someone some day that will make me say, ‘Ethan who?’, but I don’t believe it.

When I’m feeling like this, the only thing that makes me feel better is work, so I pack myself up and head over to the office. I already did a ton of work on my business earlier, so it’s time to switch it up, and it’s the perfect excuse to get out of the house, and not obsess over what just happened with Ethan. The only trouble is that I’m at work for a couple of hours and Trudy shows up. The woman can read me like a book, and there’s no use trying to deny it. All she does, after seeing the expression on my face, is. “Alright. That’s it. We’re going out, and I’m not taking no for an answer.”

And for the next four hours I drown my sorrows with my best friend. But then a week later, I get a strange email that makes me question everything all over again.

…but it’s not from Ethan, or Caleb.

Chapter 9

Ethan

“Ethan, my boy.” Da says as I walk into the house. He’s sitting in the parlor with a glass of brandy in his hand. “You care for a drink?”

“No, thanks.”

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